


commiseration

by wajjs



Series: Across The Universe (vld fics) [32]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hopeful Ending, Inspired by the Minotaur myth, Kolivance Zine, M/M, Pre-Relationship, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, zine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: A labyrinth goes both ways: it keeps you away from everyone, and it forces everyone away from you.Kolivan finds his freedom. And when the time comes, so does Lance.
Relationships: Kolivan/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Across The Universe (vld fics) [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/726072
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	commiseration

**Author's Note:**

> This was clearly inspired by the myth of the Minotaur, but I wanted to give it a twist :-D

**commiseration.**

_ and i would know _

_ what it feels to be trapped, _

_ forced into a death _

_ that does not kill. _

_ death of a freedom _

_ that is in their hands. _

He doesn't understand what's so strange about him, so alien, that makes humans cower in fear when they see him. He doesn't understand and he's never been given the chance to ask or learn, so in his lonely hours he ponders on the reasons, ponders on the fear, and thinks that the only reason is that he was born at all. So many moons have passed now, so many seasons, since the humans first saw him. He no longer remembers the world outside the traitorous walls.

But if time gave him something, if patience aided in his gain, it was in him slowly collecting the knowledge needed to traipse each and every path. The humans surely lured him in here with the hope that he'd be lost forever, that they'd never have to face him again. To keep him contained, to keep him away from their delicate perceptions, they gave him a labyrinth to take the place of his previous world. And it had worked, oh how it had worked, in the beginning: how it had made him feel like this would be his death: adrift, alone, a fool chasing for a reprieve, even if the smallest one. 

He’s always been smart, though - always prided himself in his mind and intellect, in his ability to learn when it’s needed. So he makes himself a system, a way of tracing and retracing his steps so that he never gets lost. The well full of clear water, the shade of a fig tree falling over it, are the beacons for his wandering steps. His hands on the walls are the only map he ever needs.

It takes him from winter to spring to find the exit. When he does, he realizes that the labyrinth is what’s keeping  _ humans  _ at bay. Here, in the twisted hallways, he can be in peace. Here the humans don’t dwell. It’s no forest, it’s no mountain, but here he’s free of the destructive race.

They might have asked the gods for his name because the first time they send a contingency of their young, they whisper the noun like it’s their doom:  _ Kolivan, Kolivan, Kolivan. _ The monster, the half-if half-not, the curse of nature. He’s not the creature that lurks in the dark or threatens to take their young in the middle of the night, but the humans think of him as a monster and so in one they shall turn him. 

His first visitors shake as they stumble their way through the passageways, fall ill in their acrid smell of fear and decadence. He doesn’t find most of them in time to lead them to the exit or to the fig tree, whatever it is they need most. The hands of those he does find shake as they grip onto the handle of their frail weapons. They are too far from any fighting chance.

Kolivan has no reason to care for humans, yet this makes him simmer in anger: what is the reason behind this careless waste of their precious youth? Why punish them so? Why tarnish his only spaces with these actions? In trying to turn him into an abomination, they are the ones turning themselves into monsters.

With each contingency they send, his hatred for this race of living beings grows stronger and hotter. No longer does he search for the young adults they send to him in ill-advised offerings, no longer does he try to guide them to the only exit. Kolivan's learnt the lesson now: the more he tries, the more they hate him. So he stays by the well and watches fallen leaves swim lazily on the surface of the liquid mirror. They never come close to finding him, their weapons never graze his skin, their eyes never see his shadow. That’s how he lets them be, lets them die, alone and forever afraid of each and every corner, of each passage that holds the possibility of a monster that never comes.

Sometimes Kolivan, when he feels particularly mournful and taciturn, looks up from underneath the shade of his fig tree at the luminescent dots lightning up the darkened sky, sings melodies and words no human ever knew. He sings and sings in the safety of his solitude, finding comfort in that even if the god in charge of his destiny might hear him, they will not understand, because the language of his kind has been dead for long, forgotten for longer. The wind carries his voice and perhaps the remaining humans hear him, lingering in the threshold separating life from death while lost in the labyrinth of their own making. He doesn't care. For all he knows, they might even confuse his voice with the sound the wind makes on its own. For all he knows, they are cursing him even now, when night time makes everyone an equal, and therefore they are cursing themselves.

It ends up coming to a point in which he loses track of how many young lives have been lost in this labyrinth. Seasons come and go and they keep coming, because youth is always replaceable, there's always someone new to be young. 

But together with his growing disinterest, the anger of the humans doubles. They are no longer paralyzed by fear: they are angry because this is not the destiny they wanted, this is not their time to die. Kolivan feels for them more than he thought himself capable. It's always the elders the ones that end up ruining the youth.

One of the desperate humans finds him during his walks at dusk and tries to kill him, tries to liberate everyone from this horrible faith. Kolivan respects that. It's a pity the weapons do little against him, it's a pity the brave soul comes in such a frail body. This time, he buries them, cuts the thin thread tied around their wrist and follows it all the way near the entrance. He stops there, half hidden behind a half wall, looks at what is framed of the outside world. 

The sky is all the same, the ground is unchanged. In the distance he sees buildings, sees traces of human lives, but he pays them no mind. He pretends he doesn't hear the sound of a soft voice breaking in a pitiful cry, right on the other side of the outer wall, when he grabs the rest of the thread and cuts it, too. Like this, no red mark leads to him.

When it happens, it's entirely unexpected. In his surprise he remains stunned underneath the shadow of his fig tree, half covered by leaves and tiny fallen branches. Before him stands a human, no different than the rest in build and fragility, so different from the others in the shine of their eyes and the desperation on their lips.

"Please," the human says, throwing their weapons to the side and falling to their knees. Between one blink and the next, Kolivan watches as the human bows their head, as they tremble with impotence and something else. "Please, allow me to stay here with you," they say, voice shaking, and the world seems narrower for an instant.

Kolivan barely feels his lips move. This is something he never expected. This is something truly  _ new. _ He could point out that what choice do they have, when they've been sent here as food for a beast that doesn't exist, when their death will happen sooner or later, whether he aids it or not. He could point out that this labyrinth is supposed to be his prison, custom made, not fit for anyone else. Instead, he asks: 

"Why would I do that?"

That gets the human to lift their forehead from the ground, that gets them to look at Kolivan with bright blue eyes that remind him of a sky full of song, full of air, full of birds. 

"Coming here was the only chance I had at escaping a future I had no role in choosing," they say in the expanse of one breath. Kneeling like they are, their too-big robes dip and show tan, smooth skin covering a delicate chest Kolivan could wrap his hands around and crush with nearly no effort.

"I could kill you," he replies then, gives the answer some thought, "perhaps I even should. You're running away from your duties, that's a coward's path."

"Duties," something bitter and acrid flutters across the human's face, "my only duties are the ones of someone who was sold as a slave to pay a debt that was never their own. It is why I volunteered as  _ sacrifice. _ If all power over my own life is to be taken from me, then of course I’ll go for the one option no one can deny.”

“Sacrifice,” Kolivan feels something within him revolt at the word, vile and hurtful, “one I never asked for.”

“You didn’t,” that’s the hint of a smile on the human’s face, something still tinted odd colors by the situation, “and all the others who have died before didn’t want to be one, either. And even so, coming here… Even if you decide to kill me,” this time, they fully lift themselves from the ground, still remaining on their knees. 

They seem to be stuck there by some form of necessity. Perhaps they want to stop themselves from running. Perhaps they have lost all confidence in their legs carrying them where they need to be. Perhaps they are convinced they have reached their final destination.

The human carries on: “Even if you decide to kill me, I’d still be grateful, because that means they can’t get to me ever again. But - in the chance you’re not the mean creature they say you are, and you decide to allow me to live, just like I came in here deciding I wouldn’t attack you, then… then  _ please _ , please, let me stay.”

In truth, it’s the first time in what feels like a long dream that someone  _ talks  _ to him. It’s the first time someone is sent to his labyrinth and doesn’t think of war, of blood, of vengeance, and thus it’s the first time someone truly  _ sees _ him and doesn’t run away screaming. Oh, but Kolivan does hate humans. He hates them and their hurtful ways of wasting away youth so new they haven’t had the chance to make mistakes yet. 

He hates them for coming after him when he had been alone in the mountains and forcing him here, in the plains of a labyrinth, after deciding for themselves he was a monster. He hates them because they do not appreciate life. Yet… yet his heart still yearns, something in him still wishes to be proved wrong, to have proof that all of that pain isn’t the only thing humans have for themselves.

Under the shade of his fig tree, there’s a human kneeling before him. Their eyes are ever-blue and vibrant with expectancy. This is a human with nothing to lose. This is a human that wants to  _ live _ and in his quest never sought to bring death.

This is a human Kolivan can see himself liking. This is a human Kolivan wants to get to know. Proof that there truly is more.

“What’s your name?” He asks and this does bring a true smile to the human’s soft face.

“Lance,” he says easily, still on his knees, the line of his shoulders less sharp.

Kolivan looks at him, at this human that suddenly gifts him with such a bright light, and hums. He sees the desperation in Lance’s eyes, sees the conviction. The choice is made for him right then. He accepts.

“This labyrinth is big enough,” with each word Kolivan says, Lance’s smile grows all the more breathtaking, “and this fig tree gives fruit all year-round. The well is never dry.” Lance remains silent still, irises sparkling with life. “And if the…  _ visitors _ are tiring… you can leave whenever you want.”

“Thank you,” Lance whispers, inches closer, makes Kolivan worry about his soft skin rubbing against the harsh floor, “I knew. I knew you couldn’t be the monster they make you to be. It couldn’t be true, how they say  _ Kolivan _ like it’s some kind of eternal doom.”

“Hm,” unexpected warmth blooms in his chest, “and what made you so sure?”

Lance offers a soft laugh, merely a puff of air, something delicate like the soft summer breeze. “Because,” he says, rests a hand near Kolivan’s knee, “those are the words of free men who decide on the future of others without remorse. They say nothing but lies to cover the fact that they are the monsters.”

The outside world stops here, forgotten, underneath the shadow of a fig tree. The sky is all the same, the ground is unchanged. In the distance there might be buildings, might be traces of human lives. Kolivan knows he does not care about them, does not care about all of that. 

Here there’s a human, a human with unveiled eyes that sees the labyrinth for what it is:  _ a safe place. _ And this is how he realizes he now has someone to live the days with, someone to walk through the twisting hallways with, forever free to do as they please. They are their own commanders, they are the ones in control of their lives.

“Very well, Lance,” he says, and cradles Lance’s cheek in his hand, feeling the tenderness, “if this is what you wish. We shall be free here.”

—


End file.
